Marionette
by whirlwinds of watercolours
Summary: All her life, Lily Luna has been a marionette. On the brightly lit stage of the world, she is the dazzling star of the show. Backstage, she is someone else entirely.


**Summary: All her life, Lily Luna has been a marionette. On the brightly lit stage of the world, she is the dazzling star of the show. Backstage, she is someone else entirely.**

**Rating: T, for suicide and depression. Read at your own risk.**

**Word Count: 1072**

**A/N: The events below are not in chronological order, just to clarify. ****Thanks to _Emma Quinn_ for looking over it. ****Written for Bree's birthday. Happy Birthday, and hope you enjoy this!**

* * *

_Dad,_

_I'm sorry._

_I'm sorry I never told you about it._ _I'm sorry you never tried to listen to me, even when I did want to tell you in the end._ _I'm sorry for doing this to you._

_Most of all, I'm sorry I can't live up to your expectations._

_I can't. I just can't take it anymore._

_Tell Albus and James that I'll miss them and they were the best brothers anyone can ask for. Tell Mum that I love her and I don't deserve to be her only daughter._

_I guess this is goodbye, then. I hope that you'll live a fulfilling life with Mum and Al and James. Don't miss me too much._

_- Lily_

Dumbfounded, he stares at the letter clutched tightly in his hand for what seems like eternity.

_No, no, no. _This cannot be real. This is just a nightmare; a figment of his overactive imagination. There is no way this could be real, because just two days ago, Lily had been cheerfully bouncing around the house, inquiring about how their summer holidays had been so far in an annoyingly chirping voice. Just two days ago, she had been happily talking and chatting with her brothers about mundane topics like Quidditch and her last year at Hogwarts. Just two days ago, she had been _alive_ and well.

There is no way she can be dead right now.

He remembers it clearly. With a beaming wide smile, he had thrown open the door to wake her up on the morning of her seventeenth birthday, brimming with pride that his only daughter was finally of age. As he stuck his head inside the room, grinning mischievously, he had expected to be greeted by a mildly annoyed Lily who would ambush him with a pillow for not allowing her to sleep in, on her birthday, no less. Or maybe he had expected an excited Lily who was already up and ready to celebrate her seventeenth birthday.

Out of all the possibilities, he did not expect to be greeted by the still and motionless body of Lily Luna Potter.

She had looked so peaceful, lying there on the bed. Her serene face bore the gentlest hint of a smile, and in the pale morning light, she was the perfect picture of an angel sent from heaven. If not for the ugly, dark red mark of blood across her throat which was seeping into her plain white sheet, staining it a bright crimson, he would have thought that she was still sleeping.

For one moment, he had thought that gash must have been a trick of light. Her pale lavender lids seemed to be gently fluttering, and her chest seemed to be moving up and down. Only when he had crept closer to the bed did he realise it was true; that it had not been an illusion.

She was dead.

He had stood there for a while, hardly believing his eyes. His gaze was frozen on the dead body of his daughter, and he thought that his heart would stop when he caught sight of that white slip of paper between her long fingers, and the glint of metallic silver lying on the floor. The world seemed to be spinning; that white bit of paper and the silver knife seemed to be taunting him as the realisation dawned on him...

Lily had committed suicide.

No, no, no, it was impossible. The mere suggestion was simply ludicrous. Lily Luna Potter? Commit suicide? What utter nonsense! His Lily was strong. She could withstand pressure. She could hold on; she would not crack under stress. And she certainly would not resort to suicide as a means of escape.

Yet, here the evidence was, in front of him... mocking him...

The cruel laughter seems to reverberate through his world, over and over again, until he could not take it anymore.

_"GINNY!"_

* * *

Lily Luna Potter was tired.

Frankly, she was tired of life. Tired of walking around every day with a smile plastered on her face. Tired of the flashing cameras that would go off the minute she stepped out of the house. Tired of pretending to be someone she was not.

Yes, there was no denying both her parents were celebrated war heroes. There was no denying her father had defeated You-Know-Who himself all those years ago. There was also no denying that the entire family was going to be haunted by the press the minute he emerged victorious.

Her mother had tried to put up wards to chase the reporters, those busybody reporters with nothing else better to do than to report every action of the Potter household, off. Yet they persisted, like stubborn mules, catching them off guard with their nosy questions all the time. Her siblings liked it better than her, though. James simply loved the attention he was getting and took every chance to show off, much to their parent's displeasure. Albus was a bit subtler than James, but nonetheless still enjoyed the crowd following him.

Her? She hated them.

She hated every moment with the press. They swarmed her like bees, suffocating her, asking questions about her personal life and strange relationship with the equally odd Scorpius Malfoy, choking her until she felt like she could not breathe. She wanted to scream in frustration every time they asked a question and tell them to just bog off and _leave her alone_.

But she could not.

She had a role to play. On the brightly lit stage of the harsh world, she is nothing more than another performer. But she was not in control of her actions – never was from the very beginning.

_You are nothing more than a marionette, a puppet on strings anyone can play with_, a cruel voice whispers in her head.

But she was done now - she was not going to be a puppet anymore. She was going to be the one in control now, even if it meant upsetting the entire audience.

Clutching the note for her parents in one hand and a Muggle knife in the other, she closed her eyes. _That was what people did, did they not? Leave a note… _She allowed herself to dredge up all those happy moments spent with only her brothers and parents. A smile tugged at her lips, and she knew that it was time.

In one smooth motion, she slashed the knife across her throat.


End file.
